


Wake up and smell the coffee

by BuckarooAndSpangles



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Artist Steve Rogers, College, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family Loss, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-06-08 10:18:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6850777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckarooAndSpangles/pseuds/BuckarooAndSpangles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky Barnes spends his free days working in his local coffee shop and fixating on the blue eyed blonde who comes in most days.</p><p>Steve Rogers barely notices the world around him unless he's sketching it in his book. That is until he takes note of the shaggy haired barista who seems to know his penchant for caramel frappuccinos and freshly baked cookies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The encounter

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is adapted from a role play and all mistakes are my own.

Another day, yet another early rise.  
Dragging himself from the messy covers half hanging off his bed, James, or as he preferred ‘Bucky’ managed not to trip over himself as he quickly got ready and made his way down to the coffee shop which was only a few blocks away from his apartment.  
The further he walked down the street the closer the aroma of freshly brewed coffee descended upon him and started to wake him up. The cafés and coffee chains seemed to be everywhere, and the smell permeated the air around him with comforting wafts of hazelnut and roasted beans.  
Sometimes he had to really appreciate how convenient it was living so close to where he worked; especially with his tendency to often try and deny the existence of early mornings; or more specifically, the having to force himself out of his bed when his alarm blasted out into the room.

With no parents alive and no income other than his wage and his college scholarship, he was often found trudging back and forth between the coffee shop where he spent most of his days. The owner had taken an immediate liking to him for some reason and his witty comments and hard working attitude kept the place alive with a regular clientèle who seemed to enjoy the personal touch that Bucky offered. His bright smiles and his knack of remembering everyone’s names and orders kept the customers happy from the moment they walked in, until they left with the door closing softly behind them. 

This morning was promising to be a sunny one as he glanced up through the tall buildings surrounding him and stared at the cloudless sky above. Already he could feel his previous lethargy dissipating at the promise of warmth and sunshine. The cold was always harder for him to shake off, and he hated the feeling of numb fingers and toes; the bright heat was a more than welcome addition to the beginning of his day.  
Lengthening his stride, his mood lifted quickly as he plugged in his earphones and walked the last few blocks it would take to get to his destination.

On arriving at the quaint coffee shop where he worked, he’d quickly tied an apron around his waist and had taken the chairs from off the tops of the tables and placed them the right-way up. He also greeted the other staff who'd started to arrive and were on duty with him that morning. After looking around to ensure everything was in order, he finally took his place behind the counter as a co worker opened up the shop to the milling customers outside. 

The mornings were usually slower up until the eight o’clock mark. That was when things really started heating up. The clientèle seemed to come in a steady, if somewhat hurried stream and were asking for all things latte, mocha, cappuccino, as well as special concoctions that Bucky would more than happily brew up for them.  
It was almost a relief when eleven o’clock finally came by and he could have some respite from having to smile all morning. God, his face ached as he stretched his jaw from side to side to fend off some of the stiffness that had seemed to take root since his shift had started. 

Bucky helped himself to a black coffee and sat at the counter while he sipped at the hot beverage. As much as he needed a break, he liked to stay close to his work station just in case a certain regular happened to come in.  
Bucky didn't know much about the guy who'd so easily caught his attention, other than his usual order of a caramel frappuccino and a fresh cookie on the side. He did however always have a leather bound book tucked under his arm and a pencil often precariously balanced behind his ear. He often came in just before the lunchtime rush.

Anyone who knew Bucky, knew how much he was fascinated with people and loved to interact with them. In fact one of the perks of working in the kind of environment that he did, meant that communicating and watching people was part of his job description. It was always compelling to engage with all of these people as they entered the shop and ordered; knowing they all had their own lives and worlds of their own to traverse on a daily basis.  
A whole range of people walked through that door. Businessmen who stopped by between meetings and who expected him to know their drinks of choice while they continued to ignore him and negotiate on the phone: mothers who had just finished the school run and stopped by for a break during their busy day: teenagers out with their friends, taking pictures of their beverages only to upload them to social media moments later.  
So many lives to watch coming and going.  
Then there was the mystery guy. The blonde who came in most lunch times; who ordered the same thing before sitting over in the corner with his sketchbook. Bucky only knew it was a sketchbook because he’d once frightened the poor guy by leaning over his shoulder to grab an empty coffee mug already occupying the table. He’d only wanted to clear the guys work space for him, well... and maybe get a good look at what he was doing. He couldn't help himself. Some may have thought him invasive or even plain old nosy, but Bucky just loved to know what made people tick. Perhaps it was his way of compensating for the loss of his family. His need to interact and to possess knowledge of individuals, it gave him a way of feeling like he could still belong; that he was a valued member of society still.  
He'd stood there and pondered over the blonde for hours; wondering why he came back every day. Why he was there, what he was doing? It drove him insane. He needed to know more about him just to put his mind to rest and sate his building curiosity.  
The blonde hardly ever came in with anyone, he was usually alone apart from the odd occasion when a female with a strong English accent, and a darker skinned man who was handsome enough but kind of loud at times joined him at the table. He’d tried to listen into their conversations on a few occasions but hadn't had much luck in finding out anything specific about the man he was pining for.

Brushing his fingers through his slightly matted hair, which hung annoyingly down over his eyes at times, Bucky was just about to help himself to a pastry on the counter top when he heard the door opening. There he was, the blonde god himself strolling in and making his way up to the till to order.  
Bucky had now come to terms with the fact that he couldn’t have possibly come up with a cheesier name than the 'blonde god' for the stranger who was now almost at his side, but damn did it fit like a glove.  
The guy was on his phone and didn't seem to even notice Bucky staring at him from the side. That was probably for the best; Bucky was sure his mouth had gaped open in obvious adoration of the statuesque male before him.  
Seeing that his co worker was at the back restocking, Bucky made his way behind the counter until he was facing the blonde, the counter top cruelly separating him from the object of his affections.  
Unable to quite make eye contact, and his gaze resting on the broad expanse of chest before him, Bucky finally noticed the lanyard sitting on top of the polo shirt that the guy was wearing.  
Before him was the logo for a college, the very same one that Bucky attended four times a week. So the blonde god was a college student like him and even walked the same campus. A grin of accomplishment lit up Buckys face, finally he knew something….only to falter slightly as the other man coughed loudly to gain his attention.

“Same again today sir?” Bucky kept his eyes fixed on the cup in his hand as he went to prepare the mans usual order. God, he was useless. The blonde probably thought he was an idiot. How come the words that usually poured so easily from him suddenly had a tendency to freeze on his lips whenever this man was near?  
A red flush covered his cheeks as he looked up and offered a soft yet slightly embarrassed smile. It was times like this that Bucky was glad of his overgrown hair. It gave him something to hide behind as he silently cursed himself for acting like a starstruck fool.


	2. If i ask for extra caramel, will he think i'm already sweet enough?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've decided to go with a POV format, so say hello to Steve's side of things :)

"Yeah... I know. No, I won't" Steve answered in reply to the tinny voice on the other end of his cell phone, which was currently pinned between his cheek and his shoulder as he tried to manoeuvre through the door in front of himself.  
His hands were full of his rucksack, which was laden down with text books, and his sketchpad which was an almost permanent fixture of late; practically surgically attached wherever he went.  
“Look, I'm here now. I'll call you later.”  
Steve didn't wait to hear what his best friend Sam had to say after that. He hung up on the call, knowing that the other man would understand his need to get his morning fix of cream and caffeine. As much as Steve loved Sam, there was only so much of his jolly nature that he could take in the mornings without wanting to stab out his own eyes with the pointed nib of his pencil.  
The thought of that made the tall blonde laugh as the door closed slowly behind him.  
He loved Sam with all of his heart, but the guy could sometimes drive him to the brink of crazy and back with his eternal good moods and optimistic outlook. 

His next class didn't start for another hour so he had some down time, and Steve liked nothing better than to frequent the worn in couch in the corner of his local coffee shop.  
There was a Starbucks down the road, but Steve always found his way to this same establishment. Something about the way the light filtered in through the windows at this time of the day really sang to the artist in him; plus, the whole place had a good vibe going on, and the drinks were far superior (in his honest opinion). There was also the fact that there was a young guy behind the counter who always seemed to have a pleasant word to say to everyone, and who always drew a smiley face on the cup after Steve had made his order. They never asked your name at this place, unlike most of the other big chains, and Steve liked that he could keep his anonymity….plus, that smiley face never failed in managing to cheer him up somewhat.

Sam often came here too. In fact, he was the one who had first discovered the place and had introduced it to Steve. Sam however had different reasons for coming back. He'd mentioned on countless occasions just how attractive most of the baristas working at the shop were; but Steve hadn't really paid much attention to his friends comments, after all, Sam was renowned for trying to hit on practically every individual who had a half decent rack on them; and the full use of their own teeth. In truth, he wasn't especially fussy about his hook ups at all, so Steve managed to usually take his friends recommendations with a pinch of proverbial salt.

There was something of a long standing arrangement between the two friends that oddly seemed to work for them. Steve's nose was always in his sketchbook with a pencil glued to the ends of his fingers, while Sam was the one checking out their surroundings and monologuing almost continuously about everyone and everything that he could see.  
Sam always said that unless his friend was actually drawing something in his book or on a piece of paper, that it didn't actually exist in Steve's world. The blondes whole being would be focused on his sketchbook when he found something that he wanted to capture on paper, and nothing, not even his bestest pal could penetrate his concentration.  
It was probably a good thing though, Sam could drive the most patient of people to distraction. The guy just seemed to love the sound of his own voice. Maybe that's why their friendship worked so well. Steve could ignore the others ramblings quite comfortably, and Sam could talk all day and not have anyone telling him to 'shut the hell up'….which had happened often enough in he past when spending time with some of their mutual buddies.

Finally stopping before the till, Steve slid his cellphone into the back pocket of his pants while looking around for service. Acknowledging that he needed to wait as no one was around yet, he fished out his wallet from his rucksack and casually tapped his fingers on the shiny surface of the counter.  
He'd barely noticed the figure crouched over their drink to the side of him until they eventually stirred and made their way to stand behind the cash register.  
After a long moment of waiting for some form of response, Steve coughed loudly to attract the persons attention, and then smiled as the young man seemed to shock himself back to reality and finally started to take notice of the customer standing before him. 

Steve casually studied the man and something familiar sparked inside him. His own attention wavered slightly and it took a moment before he realized the other had spoken to him, and had asked him if he'd wanted his usual drink.  
“Yeah. Thanks” was the best that he could manage to reply as he tried to make out the features that were clouded behind the curtain of dark hair that had fallen down over the others face.

The other male moved to tuck a long piece of hair behind his ear, and Steve finally recognized that it was the coffee guy who always drew the cute faces on the side of his cup. For some reason, the others hair wasn't tied back in it's usual style, and now the obscuring tresses had parted, Steve could clearly see why he'd thought the other man had seemed familiar to him mere moments ago.

For want of anything better to do, Steve watched the barista at work, and then wished he hadn't. He felt the tips of his ears starting to pink as he became conscious of his own gaze slowly lingering up and down the others tall body as it moved fluidly to prepare the drink.  
Okay, so maybe Sam had been right. This particular barista was kinda cute...if you liked that kind of thing of course, and Steve definitely did like that kind of thing. At least he had until he'd sworn off all men and women since Peggy Carter had left him to go back to England.  
It had been an amicable separation, but it had still hurt nonetheless, and a part of him still hoped that Peg might still return at some point in the near future. 

Due to their recent breakup, Steve was currently nursing something of a broken heart. He felt like a black cloud had descended and was threatening to swallow him up. The whole process had made him realize that he didn't like the idea of being alone. Yes, he had Sam and a few other casual buddies, and usually that was enough, but Steve just couldn't seem to make friends all that easily. Sam said he was too intense at times, and that people probably felt like they couldn't approach him, but that wasn't how it was at all. Steve wasn't exactly shy, but he could often suffer with low self esteem and would often doubt himself.  
Burying himself in his art was the only way that he could manage to get through most social encounters without falling into a desperate heap; or without opening his mouth and saying something inappropriate. The inability to curb his tongue had always been a problem, and in the past this had resulted in him getting a fist to various parts of his body. That had happened on more occasions than Steve cared to admit. 


	3. Cookie psychosis

With a renewed spring in his step, Bucky gave a jaunty “Comin’ right up" and smiled back at the blonde before going about the little ritual that produced the creamy, caramel, cold drink which the other male was so fond of.  
He’d not admit it to anyone, but he always made sure that he lingered over this particular order; making his movements drawn out and defined as he tried to keep the object of his affections in his periphery for just that little bit longer, as he navigated around, fetching the needed ingredients from nearby.  
Bucky even willed the ice to crush with less speed as it churned in the blender, because once it was condensed down into a slush, it would bring him that one moment closer to having to watch the other leave. 

Pushing his hair behind his ear once more as a stray lock threatened to fall into his eyes again, his steely gaze almost burnt the liquid hot with its intensity, as he willed himself not to turn around and take one more look at the perfection standing behind him.  
Bucky’s subconscious had other plans however, and without even realising it, he would often make discrete glances over towards the guy as he continued to work. So far he’d never been caught making blatant eye contact with the blonde’s form, (Earlier didn’t count of course, that was due to the shock of those perfect pectorals looming before him….Nothing more. Nope! Purely caught him of guard is all. That didn’t count in the slightest.).. but it was only going to be a matter of time until he would eventually be caught in the act of doing so.

After pouring the drink into a transparent cup and filling the top with cream and syrup, the barista reached down and added a small snowman shaped treat to a small plate off to his side. "I still think it's too early to start Christmas stuff but what the boss man says, goes" he said while shrugging like it was no big deal, and placing the drink and the cookie on the counter and moving in front of the till to add up the total. (The boss man mentioned previously however had actually said nothing of the sort, and it was merely an excuse for Bucky to offer the male a sweet treat)

As he started to punch in the numbers and accepted the cash, an intense wave of insecurity suddenly washed over him as he realised what he’d done. Was it too obvious, did he just make himself look like a fool? ‘Barnes you idiot, this guy isn’t interested in your attempt at conversation’ he chastised himself inwardly as he tipped his head further forwards so that the front of his hair fell to obscure his features a little more from the blonde’s view.  
Luckily, the other male in question was pretty occupied with trying to balance his belongings in his arms and put his change away, so didn’t particularly notice the barista acting strangely in any way.

Bucky had been watching this guy come into the shop for at least a couple of months now: although it felt like so much longer, and he knew that he had to do something about it. He was tired of the little smiles and short moments of eye contact between them both.  
He wanted more!  
‘Man up Barnes, okay, don’t ruin this, one more try?’ He practically screamed to himself as he couldn’t understand the difficulty that he was currently having right now. He’d always been so smooth and charming with the ladies and even the odd guy who’d hit on him before, so why was talking too caramel frap guy so damn difficult? 

"In case you’re confused, It's uh, on the house. The cookie I mean. You're a regular an’ you come in every day. So… loyalty membership" he smiled up at him, trying to convince both himself and the blonde that the offering was completely legitimate and warranted. Besides… It would’ve been far too awkward to just announce that he; the stranger behind the counter, was paying for part of the order. Although……Maybe he needed to do exactly that. Put himself out there and be spontaneous and exciting: but how would he know if this man even liked guys? He’d already been seen cosying up with a woman, that much Bucky was sure of, and he certainly didn’t want to scare him off. One way or another though, he had to know, or he was going to drive himself crazy if he kept up with this infatuation…Then again, perhaps just sticking to the small moments of interaction was for the best. He could just keep standing behind the counter and stare at him every day, looking like a maniac of course if he was ever caught; but at least that way things wouldn’t become uncomfortable, or worse still, the guy wouldn’t stop coming in all together if he felt like Buck had been inappropriate.

Finally noticing the blonde’s issues with his belongings, Bucky decided to be a gentleman and help the other out. For a moment his crush was put to the side as his accommodating nature took over and he grabbed hold of the plate and drink and made his way out to the coffee shop floor.  
"Here I'll bring it over for you. No hassle. It's quiet at the moment and you have your hands full" he quickly interjected, leaving no room for discussion.  
He headed straight for the worn couch in the corner where the blonde often sat and once the order was set down, he swiftly pulled out a cloth from his back pocket and wiped down the table.  
Bucky smiled slightly as he straightened up, and a pair of bright blue eyes caught his own as he stuck the cloth back in his pocket. "Erm..have a nice day, sir" he murmured softly before turning and walking back to the counter.  
He had to admit, he was feeling rather proud of himself that he'd actually spoken to the cute guy. His new found confidence evident by the spring in his step as he whistled quietly while emptying the dishwasher and restocking the crockery. 

Buck was always one to overthink things, get lost in his own imagination. In this particular moment, as he let his mind wander, he couldn't help but stand there and daydream about how the caramel might linger on his own lips if he were to kiss the blonde male right now.  
Quickly stopping himself from heading any further down that path, he reminded himself of the dark haired girl that he’d seen attached to the others side less than a month ago. She had looked far too comfortable to be just a friend. so that could mean that he already had someone special in his life.

Bucky knew that he shouldn't get his hopes up, only to disappoint himself.  
God, did he know; but this man had some kind of hypnotic hold on him, and he was going to drive himself insane thinking about him.


	4. A man with a name, is a man worth knowing

"On the house? Wow!" Steve replied, a fair haired eyebrow rising up in surprise as the server placed his drink and a frosted cookie in front of him. "Knew there was a reason I liked this place best." Totally oblivious to the other males red faced, and somewhat pained interaction, the blonde continued to remain completely unaware of the baristas attempts to butter him up.  
With a coy glance towards Bucky, Steve hoped that he hadn’t sounded like an idiot as he shuffled his possessions in an attempt too free up a few digits; hoping that in doing so, he'd be able to grab hold of his latest coffee shop purchase.  
As he finally felt comfortable enough to attempt picking everything up, he took a moment to stare at the biscuit and a smile glanced over his features at the early holiday reminder. He'd always loved that time of year…That was until he realised that for this upcoming one, he’d be alone; and it would be the first time in a long time that there was no one special in his life to share it with.

With Peggy now gone and his mom passed away these last three years, Steve didn’t think that he had much Christmas spirit left to spare. Sure, he’d have Sam for company, but his friend would be more interested in trying to kiss as many people under the mistletoe as he could, and when not partaking in that activity, he would undoubtedly be trying to make Steve have a good a time as possible.  
Sam would have the best of intentions, as always, but in doing so, he’d neglect to actually consider his best friends wishes in the whole process.  
As much as he would appreciate the idea and effort though, Steve just felt like he wanted to be left alone to lick his wounds. The festive season was supposed to be a time for family and friends, but right now, Steve felt severely lacking in both of those departments.  
Still, he wasn’t that downcast enough that he couldn’t remember to nod in appreciation as the dark haired guy turned and told him that he’d bring his order over to him. How was he supposed to know that Steve felt numb at the prospect of a lonely end to his current year, and that a snowman shaped confectionery only reminded him of his failings, and heightened his sudden sense of loss.

Coming out of his brief reverie, Steve took a moment to consider that the other male was right. He was going to need some assistance in carrying everything. His hands were still somewhat full and he hadn't really put too much thought into how he was going to actually get his drink and cookie over to the other side, as well as juggle his bag, wallet and book at the same time. Multitasking was something that alluded him continuously, (Sam always said that is was because Steve was too single minded and focused on the job at hand to be able to do more than one thing at once. In fact, Sam often jested about his constant surprise at how Steve was able to manage both walking and talking at the same time)…so as graciously as he could manage, Steve started to make his way over to his usual seat, and put his stuff down beside himself as he sat and stretched his long legs out in front.

Steve took a moment to appreciate that the barista was even more polite than he’d originally noticed beforehand, and he was determined to leave his server a bigger tip than usual. Good service was so hard to find these days and it could really be the difference between a good day, or a bad as far as he was concerned. His ma had always maintained that good manners cost nothing, and Steve found that it was a motto he took to heart and tried to maintain at all times.  
With a sudden, soft exhale of breath, he realised that it was now twice in the past five minutes that he had thought of his deceased mother, and his chest ached as he sought a distraction from the melancholy thoughts that were threatening to take over his previous mood.

Opening up his book once comfortably seated, Steve looked around for something to inspire him while he chewed on the tip of his pencil.  
He found himself quickly sketching out a warm smiling face; the looks hauntingly familiar and reminiscent of the coffee guy who was currently bent over and wiping down his table.  
"Thank you" Steve politely acknowledged while glancing up from his paper and snapping his sketch book shut so the other wouldn't see what was starting to take form from the charcoal of his pencil. "That's really good of you"

Once the man had departed, Steve flipped his pad back open and started to add light and shade to the floppy hair that was starting to take shape on the page.

One drink and one cookie later, Steve looked at his watch and shifted in his seat. It was almost time to make a move and head to his class. The minutes, as usual, had flown by once he had allowed himself to become consumed by his drawing. It had certainly helped that the subject matter he’d chosen, was pleasing to the eye. (If Steve had spent slightly too long blending his strokes over a razor sharp jawline, then who was to know?)

Packing his stuff away he grabbed the empty plate and beaker and headed up to the counter. Coffee guy wasn't there, much to his chagrin; he had been looking forward to one more interaction with the barista before he left.  
Perhaps he was out in the back, gathering supplies, or maybe he had finished his shift and Steve had been too engrossed in his work to notice. It wouldn’t have been the first time that the artist had zoned out, and it sure as hell wouldn’t ever be the last either.  
That much he was definitely sure of.

Steve took out the money from his wallet that he was going to leave for a tip, and ripped off an empty page from his book. Quickly, he wrote on the paper with his pencil, and folding the tip inside, he placed it by the till and left; hoisting his bag over his shoulder as he did so, and clinging his sketch book close to his chest as he exited the building without a backward glance. He knew that if he turned, he'd go back and remove the note. He felt stupid for feeling the need to write it, but he wanted to let the coffee guy know how much his service had been appreciated.

The note remained beside the till for a further six minutes. That was how long it took for Bucky to reappear and scowl over at the now vacated seat, where he had left his newly acquired crush.  
"Crap" he chastised himself as he threw the dirty cloth from his pocket onto the floor in a fit of temper at missing the blondes departure.

It took a further two minutes, to be exact, for the barista to notice the folded note left on the counter.

Opening it up, he spied the cash first, then cast his eyes over the neat printed letters on the page.

His heart skipped a beat as he reread the text and ran a finger softly over the page.

"It's never too early for Xmas. :)  
Thanks again.  
Steve.  
(The dude with his hands full)"


End file.
